One Upped
by Element's Sole Protector
Summary: Tony fails to amuse the Trickster God, who is quick to punish failure. About as raw and unedited as anything I've ever written, and bordering on M. And, of course, FrostIron! Credit for the pic goes where due, since it's definitely not my drawn baby.


Yes I did.

* * *

One-Upped

* * *

"I have had just about _enough_ of you."

Tony swallowed. Okay, so, perhaps this _hadn't_ been his best course of action—but hey, stealing Loki's helmet and painting obscene things on it had seemed like such a _good_ idea at the time!

Loki stalked closer, practically snarling, with his golden horned helmet held under one dangerously lithe arm.

Desperate now to keep all his bits in the proper places, Tony said hastily, "Hey, now _that_ can't be entirely true—I mean, you're the God of Mischief, yeah? And that's all this is, just a little mischief—"

"_Silence!_"

Tony's mouth snapped shut—but even as he started reaching for his Mark VII cuffs, he was watching the seething Asgardian. Watching the way the red flush of rage bloomed over his pale features, the strong set of his shoulders, the flecks of spittle at the corner of those kissable lips—

Wait.

_What?_

Loki moved, too fast for Tony to track, and then the god had him pinned to his lab worktable, the helmet put away but not forgotten. Heartbeats passed thus, with both breathing harshly, fueled by fury and (on Tony's part) acute fear and an odd arousal he was trying to Hulk-smash out of his brain. Both of them.

"You thought to outwit _me_?" Loki sneered, gesturing to the cuffs now lying much too far away for Tony's piece of mind before laughing. "That was a foolish thought, Man of Iron."

"What can I say," Tony shrugged. "This playboy wants a fair fight."

The god's dark eyebrows rose, and at the word _playboy_ he studied Tony for a moment before licking his lips. "Then you should _never_ have considered challenging _me_."

Tony had to hold back a groan. Loki noticed, and his frown was replaced by a smirk.

"Have you always been so easily offended, Loki? It doesn't make any sense, y'know, trickster god not being amused by a prank—"

"_You defaced my helmet._"

"And wasn't it pretty?" Tony asked rather flippantly, trying to ignore how abnormally fast he was talking, how Loki's answering snarl sent a pool of heat south. Since when did _he_ like being dominated and frightened? "Seriously, though, chill out. –Eh, I mean," Loki's expression _then_ scared his arousal right off, "no harm done, right? Apparently it washed right off and everything. Hey, do they even _have_ Tide on Asgard? How about Downy? Clorox? Or did you need Windex since your helmet is so goddamned shiny?"

Green eyes went from blazing to bemused. "What?"

"Never mind." Arousal had returned, but the crisis was averted, it seemed. "Can you just—can you just _get off_?"

"I think not, Stark," Loki said, his expression dark again. "There is still the matter of your punishment."

His heart sank. _Oh. Shit._

"Do you know what I generally do to those who think to humiliate me, to best me or otherwise outwit me?" Loki hissed, leaning forward to touch their noses together.

Tony swallowed. He really _was_ too close. "I'm… guessing it's painful?"

"Excruciatingly so," Loki breathed, his eyes glittering madly. He took hold of the billionaire's shoulders. "But oh, you know _pain_, Man of Iron. You would expect that kind of response. So I shall best you in _another_ way…"

He gripped Tony's face and leaned in to kiss him—hard, aggressively, in a way that showed which one of them was _really_ the dominating playboy.

Tony recoiled—but only at first. Eventually the burn of his arousal won out, and he kissed back, moaning into Loki's mouth until the trickster god pulled back, panting for an entirely different reason now and doing that goddamned _smirking_ thing again.

_Well,_ Tony's inventing brain thought as it finally clicked back on. _That was… um…_

"Have you learned your lesson now, Stark?" Loki asked, and something smoldered in his bottomless green eyes.

"Um, yeah," Tony managed to say between gasps, as the God of Mischief and Lies and prelude-to-angry-dominant-punishment-sex kisses finally released him, and he moved away from the scene of the crime. "If this is my punishment every time I piss you off, I've learned that I need your helmet back so I can draw _more_ shit on it."

* * *

I will go down with this ship.


End file.
